


Why the Fuck Did They Block the M-8??

by EmmyDrakon



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Androids, Childbirth, Connor's a cop now so, Description of Birth, Deviance, Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), F/M, His ass had to learn how to do this, Post Revolution, Pregnancy, Pregnant, Self-Indulgent, giving birth on the highway, my brain did a thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-02-23 02:54:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23971198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmmyDrakon/pseuds/EmmyDrakon
Summary: Going into labor on the side of the highway in a gridlock? Connor's got you, babe.TITLES ARE HARD
Relationships: Connor/Original Character(s), Hank Anderson/Connor, Hank Anderson/Original Character(s), Upgraded Connor | RK900/Gavin Reed
Comments: 11
Kudos: 70





	Why the Fuck Did They Block the M-8??

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a self-indulgent little thing. I read a fic where Connor mentioned that he had to learn the basics of delivering a baby in the police academy. And my brain wouldn't let me sleep until I did this. There's a longer more complicated version with more plot that I may eventually complete and post as a multi-chapter thing, but we'll see. This is worthy of a one-shot and I wanted to feel like I finished something lol.
> 
> Feedback welcome! It's been a while for my rusty little author brain.

“911, what is your emergency?”

“I think I’m about to give birth on the side of the highway.”

“Ok, ma’am, where are you?”

“I’m stuck in the gridlock on the M-8. Just past the Washington Avenue exit. I- Ah!”

“Ma’am? Deep breaths, ok? Just breathe through it, I’m timing how long it lasts..” 

“Aaahhhhh…. Ok… we’re ok. Medium one.”

“And it lasted about 45 seconds, ok. How quickly are they coming?”

“About 10-ish minutes apart. I was on my way to the hospital, that’s how I’m in this mess in the first place.”

“How many weeks are you? And has your water broken?”

“39 and 2 days, doing pretty good. No water yet. Still have time, but the way this shitshow is going, I think I’m gonna need some extra hands.”

“I think you’re right, what’s your name?”

“Amelia Morrow. I’m a labor and delivery nurse at Henry Ford.”

“Ok, so this is right up your alley!” He got a weak chuckle for that. “And what does your car look like, I’m going to send whoever can get to you the fastest.”

“Light blue Subaru Impreza. I’m in the far left lane.”

“Ok, Detroit PD is trying to see if they have anybody near you and I’m dispatching an ambulance now. It’ll… It’s gonna be a while.”

“... Yeah..” There was a pause.

“Have you had any previous problems with the pregnancy?”

“Nope, smooth sailing. I really thought it was too by the books to be true,” she chuckled wryly. Years of things going wrong, only to have this go so perfectly with the odds so against her? She knew the universe was winding up for one hell of a sucker punch.

Amelia set her phone to speaker and let it fall into the passenger seat. Tilting her head back to stare through the sunroof, she ran her hands slowly over her belly and took a slow, deep breath. “Fucking hell…”

The now-tinny voice reached her again. “I’ll stay on the line with you, ok?”

“Ok…  _ fuck  _ I have to get out of this fucking car…” 

“Is it safe to get up and move around?”

“Yeah, when things started to clog up I got as far left as I could go. There’s a shoulder.” 

“Ok, just bring me with you.”

“Yep.” She snatched up the phone and threw open her driver side door, standing with a grunt and a groan. And so she paced, next to her car, oblivious to the growing attention being drawn to her actions. As another contraction gripped her, she leaned hard on the car, both elbows against the warm metal and groaned, long and low. She didn’t even register running footsteps skidding to a halt beside her.

“Amelia Morrow?” A new voice, a much closer voice, reached her foggy brain. 

“Hm?” She cocked her head to the side, sending just her right eye to seek the source.

A young man stood there, his brown hair windswept and his eyes slightly wide. He wore standard business casual, but the badge hanging around his neck told her what she needed to know. 

“Yeah, that’s me,” she said breathlessly as she straightened. 

“Are the police with you now?” Her phone interjected. 

“Yeah, he’s here.”

“Ok, I’ll leave you with them. Good luck, and congratulations hon!” And the line went dead.

The young officer extended a hand. “My name is Connor. I’m.. I’m an officer with Detroit PD. My partner should be along shortly.”

Amelia grasped his hand briefly. “Hi, Connor. Sorry to drag you into this.”

“Not at all. What can I do?”

Amelia moved gingerly to perch on the edge of the driver’s seat through the still-open door, keeping one hand tucked under her belly. “Right now, we wait. We haven’t even hit the exciting part yet.” She shot him a wry grin. 

“Very well.” He tucked his hands behind his back, an oddly formal stance. Amelia took the opportunity to study him more closely. His dark brown hair was a little wild from running, she assumed, but his button down and tie were impeccable. He seemed so completely calm, it was surprising. Until the bright blue LED on his temple caught her eye.

It made her smile, a motion he noticed. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, well, as alright as I can be. No, I just saw your LED, it- I don’t know, comforted me I guess. 

Connor looked decidedly taken aback by this. “It.. did?”

“Well yeah. I’d rather have you than a young human guy. This sort of stuff wigs them out entirely.” She leaned into the car for the water bottle sitting in the console.

His perfect eyebrows raised briefly. “... Oh.”

The two sat quietly for a moment, rousing when an older man jogged up, huffing and puffing and glaring at Connor. 

“Jesus Christ, zippy, I didn’t think you’d get that far.”

“My apologies Lieutenant. I thought it best that at least one of us arrived as soon as possible.”

The man raked a hand through long, stringy grey hair, then dropped both hands to his hips, obviously trying to catch his breath. 

“Amelia, this is my partner, Lieutenant Hank Anderson.”

Amelia waved briefly, smothering her amusement at his obvious annoyance.

“So, uh,” Lieutenant Anderson gestured vaguely toward her. “How we doing?”

“Progress. Slow, but progress. Should be- aaaaahhh  _ shit _ .” Amelia pushed herself to her feet. She felt it again, that slow, burning grip drawing itself taught in her lower abdomen. 

Connor appeared before her, cupping gentle hands beneath her elbows. She gripped his shoulders and dropped her forehead to his chest without hesitation. 

“Will you- ah- just, rock, ok?” Her pained request was muffled in his shirt, but he seemed to understand. Slowly, the android began to shift his weight to one foot, and back to the other, drawing her with him. She shifted her hips with the movement, humming and growling out her distress. This one was  _ bad _ ; it seemed to crawl up her torso and  _ squeeze _ the breath from her lungs. And the world seemed to vanish.

“Breathe, Amelia.” Soft pressure ran up and down her back, and she remembered to suck a long, tortured breath in. “Good.”

The next hour passed this way. The sounds of running motors, horns, and agitated voices faded into white noise. They would talk quietly, trading stories and fun facts. Connor would ply her with water, then the next one would hit and she would pace and groan and he would hold her and rock and whisper soft encouragements as it passed. She was vaguely aware of a gathering crowd, and Hank put himself to work keeping them back and out of their hair. 

As the contractions got longer and closer together, anxiety began to rise in Amelia's chest. She had no way to know how the baby was doing… no way to see if the cord was being compressed, if the baby was still getting enough oxygen.. 

The most recent contraction eased, letting her breathe again. She let her hands slide to curl against her own chest, keeping her head resting against her supporter’s chest. “Connor?” she whispered. 

“Yes?”

“How detailed can your physiological scans get? Doing this without any fetal monitoring… is kind of terrifying.”

Connor straightened beneath her. He was quiet for a long moment, then spoke. “I can detect the presence of the fetus, and that it is currently sufficiently oxygenated and moving periodically. I could perhaps measure the heart rate if I had closer contact.”

Amelia nodded against him.

The hand on her back moved with surprising hesitance and rested ever-so-lightly on the side of her swollen belly. It slid slightly back, then an inch to the front, then down before it settled more firmly. The baby seemed to register its presence and rolled against Connor’s palm. 

The little intake of breath that came from so near her ear made Amelia smile. “She says hi.” She turned her head to catch a glimpse of Connor’s face. The sheer delight in his eyes almost made her laugh out loud, but she bit the inside of her lips while he gathered himself. 

“Ah. Fetal heart rate is hovering at an average of 135 beats per minute with moderate variability. According to the information I downloaded for this encounter, that is optimal.”

Amelia sighed with relief. “Yeah, that's excellent. Ok. Good.”

Another hour came and went in the same fashion. No movement from traffic. No sign of an ambulance. And the moment of truth seeming to speed up its approach.

Sometime during this hour, another pair of detectives arrived. Neither Hank or Connor seemed pleased with their presence, but extra bodies keeping people away was encouraging. The human had a forced bad-boy vibe, and his partner was another Android that looked startlingly like Connor. They introduced themselves from afar, the human looking wildly uncomfortable, as Detective Gavin Reed and RK-900, or Nines. All Amelia could spare them was a wave and a “thanks for coming” before the next wave hit, sending her curling into Connor’s chest once again, her knees almost buckling underneath her. 

Then a trickle of warm fluid tickled its way down her thigh, making way for a proper rush. 

“It seems-”

“Yep.” Amelia pushed off of Connor’s chest, squinting in the sunlight. “This is where it gets uncomfy.” She stepped away from Connor, and waved Hank, as he had insisted she call him, over. She kept her other hand firmly on Connor’s arm. “Will you open the back door of my car?”

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“My water just broke, so shit’s about to get real.”

“ _ Fucking _ hell, ok.” Hank hurried to open the door, then helped her perch on the back seat. He promptly turned tomato red and turned his back to her as she tugged her underwear out from underneath her flowy black dress. “OH! Ok, kid, a little warning next time, goddamnit.”

“Connor, I’m sorry, I need you to check how dilated I am. Do you have gloves?”

His synthetic cheeks turned blue, but Connor nodded mutely and drew close as she lay back on the seat, keeping her knees bent and raised. The snap of latex reached her ears as he slipped one hand into a crime scene glove and used the other to keep her dress pulled between her knees, covering her modesty as much as he could. 

Amelia winced and hummed as he checked, then raised her head when he said. “6 centimeters.” He removed himself and covered her, taking her extended hand with his clean one and pulling her to a sitting position. 

“Ok. Still have a few more hours to go, then..” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Hank shaking his head in disbelief. 

“Jesus, kid. You’re taking this surprisingly well.”

She shrugged, smiling slightly. “I’m a nurse. I’m pretty sure I had my ability to panic burned out of me. And this isn’t my first rodeo.”

“You have other children?” Connor inquired.

“No, but I've delivered about 500 babies for other women with way more complication situations than mine. This little twist? Bah, this is nothin'."

Hank barked out a disbelieving laugh. "You'd think after all this revolution shit nothing would surprise me anymore..." he murmured. 

6 hours. That’s how long they’d been standing on the shoulder of the M-8, unprotected from the spring sun, trapped in a miles-long gridlock, the source of which no one knew. The humans were sweaty and tired. The androids were unperturbed. Bystanders had offered up water and snacks, one even donated a camping blanket. Others offered their loud, bigoted opinions about the quality of her android midwife, but one half-growled, wordy “fuck off” from the main event was enough for the rest to keep their opinions to themselves. 

Gavin and Nines kept the thin crowd from gathering too close, while Hank and Connor stayed at Amelia's side. She was too tired to stand now, so she sat on the edge of the back seat with Connor crouched in front of her. Her sweat-covered forehead had slowly built up a moisture mark on the front of his shirt, and now she was working on a second one on his shoulder. 

Then things really kicked into high gear. 

Amelia's muscles tensed and squeezed and  _ crushed _ her, lasting 20, 30, 40, 60 seconds and kept  _ going _ . The pressure built and settled low in her pelvis and  _ pressed _ , harder and harder until- 

“Shit ok this is it.”

Hank started upright from his leaning position. “What??”

“Hank, go around the other side and get in the back, I need you to hold me up, please.” As he complied, she looked at Connor, whose consistent calm was beginning to fracture. “You look through all the material?”

He swallowed nervously, such a  _ human _ gesture, and nodded. His LED flashed from blue to yellow, an android gesture of the same emotion.

“Ok, let’s do this.”

The car rocked beneath her and Hank’s frustrated muttering as he folded himself into the small car made her laugh breathlessly. She scooted back in the seat until her back was against his chest and shamelessly hiked up her skirt, planting her feet wherever she could find purchase on either side of the door. Blessedly, she saw Nines had drawn close and was standing strategically next to Connor, between her and any spectators. 

“You are dilated to 10 centimeters, Amelia, and the baby’s head is engaged, it’s time to push.” His LED was solid yellow now.

Warmth encompassed her upper body as Hank leaned into her and placed a hesitant hand on her side. “What do you need me to do, kid?” he asked gruffly. 

“Just.. Hold on.” She let her head fall onto his shoulder, feeling his coarse hair tickle her cheek as she looked up at him. “Don’t let me go anywhere.”

“Ok. That I can do.”

That was the last conscious thought she registered before she had the distinct sensation of being torn apart from the inside. 

With the next contraction, burning and squeezing and the  _ pressure _ , Amelia dug her fingers into the backs of the seats, shoved her weight onto her legs and  _ Pushed _ . Bore down with all her might, using her legs to shove back into Hank, her arms to pull herself forward, every fibre of her being to just get her  _ out _ .

“I can see the head!”

Again. 

“The head is out, wait. I need to turn her..”

“Check her neck,” Amelia gasped out. “Check for the cord.”

A beat. “Her neck is clear.”

And again.

“One shoulder… let me see if I can.. Ok.”

Again.

“She’s out!”

And a wailing cry. 

Connor’s smiling face swam into her blurry vision. The wet, squirming, vaguely purple form of a screaming baby girl landed gently on her heaving chest. A scratchy green blanket was draped over both of them - Hank busied himself with straightening and tucking it around her, trying to pretend he wasn’t crying. 

And that’s when those outside the car saw two frazzled human and two cheery android paramedics sprint onto the scene. The androids brought a gurney without complaint, and the humans hefted large duffles like they regretted everything that had led to their day. 

Amelia found she couldn’t focus on much of anything as new, strange hands maneuvered her and her baby, checking vitals, color, pressing on her sore stomach asking questions she could barely answer. She heard Connor’s voice listing times, facts, conditions - ah, to have an android memory, lucky  _ bastard _ . 

She felt the moment she delivered the placenta. She may have made some joke to the effect of “Just in time for the grunt work”... It was definitely funnier in her head. 

Then she was moving. Hank was shifting behind her to hand her out to the paramedics, who guided her, wobbly-legged and fuzzy-headed with pain, to the stretcher. They strapped her in and once again placed the baby on her chest. She could hear them explaining their tardiness, how it would take a while to get back to the truck, but she couldn’t bring herself to care all that much. They’d  _ made _ it. She’d just successfully given birth on the side of the road in the middle of the day in a  _ gridlock _ with nothing but a bottle of water and a couple of  _ cops- _

_ Connor _ . She sat up slightly and craned her neck to survey the area. The movement attracted attention, luckily enough, and her quarry was soon at her side. 

“Rest, Amelia. Try not to move too much.”

A shaking hand landed on his lapel. “Come in the ambulance with me? Us? I.. I don’t want to be alone.”

“Of course. Lieutenant? I-”

And then she woke up in the hospital. “Oh blessed be, finally. Never thought I’d be thrilled to wake up in a hospital bed,” she croaked.

“It is a far more optimal environment for what you’ve just gone through.”

She turned a heavy head and a tired smile toward the familiar voice. “Connor, you stayed.”

“You did not want to be alone. I assumed that extended to environments beyond the ambulance.” His crooked little smile belied his formality. 

“Baby?”

“Currently undergoing further examination but is, by all accounts, perfectly healthy.”

She sighed in relief. “Connor I can’t thank you enough for what you did for me today. You  _ saved _ me, both of us.”

“I merely-”

“No, no ‘merely’. You are a wonder, and I don’t think I can ever repay you.”

He looked down at his hands, clasped neatly in front of him. They tightened, then he raised his eyes. “Then, you’re welcome.”

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
